


Dandelion Seeds

by CopperTones



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:31:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperTones/pseuds/CopperTones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He talks hurriedly and barely above a whisper.  He makes a move to shut the door and I find my voice. <br/>“Wait!” My voice wobbles as I come out of the trance caused by the song and our strange meeting. He pauses and turns back as I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans. “Are you part of the band?”<br/>He nods his head quickly and looks down, the strange air between us shifting to embarrassed rather than electric. I gently lower the fall over the keys and gather my song book and bag.<br/>“Then you’re in the right place.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mum is worried about me. Not because I spend pretty much all my time alone practising my double bass or that the six year anniversary of my little brothers death is fast approaching; no, she’s worried because one of her house plants has spots. My mother, in her infinite wisdom, has believed for much of my seventeen years on this planet that this particular houseplant of the nondescript variety reflects my physical, emotional and spiritual health. I’ve come to believe it too. 

Across the kitchen from where I sit, my mum- all six feet and floral frock of her looms over the black spotted leaves of the Lilah plant.

“You don’t think it will get better this time, do you?” My mum queries my dad; painter and resident pothead with a serious handlebar moustache. Together they look like a cartoon couple, drawn together by an artist purely for the absurdity of it all. To any outside observer it might seem strange, both of them standing by the sickly plant, clutching their coffee cups with lines between their brows while they peer at me but not to me, I’ve gotten used to it. 

“It’s got a very serious condition.” My dad booms. Everything that comes out of his mouth has weight, pass the salt tends to come out in a thou-shalt-not, Ten Commandments kind of way. Dad is the green thumb in the family and the reason our two story Sydney suburban house looks like the Amazon jungle. Also, I suspect for his perpetually bloodshot eyes and toothy grin that no doubt accompanies his extracurricular activities.

Mum’s knuckles have gone white around her mug as I go back to scribbling a poem into the margin of Alice in Wonderland and shovelling cereal into my mouth. I don’t say anything, I have no use for words; my mouth might as well be used to store paper clips.

“But the plant has always recovered before, like when Lilah broke her wrist.”

“This is different, dear.”

“Or when she and that spiky haired boy broke up last year, you remember she didn’t come out of her room for two days and it got those awful white spots but it got better.”

“Still different.”

“Or when-”

“This time is different Grace.” I look up, with spoon poised midair and take in the two of them. They’re peering at me again, a towering duet of concern and love, as I stand, place my bowl in the dishwasher and grab my bag and double bass.

“Not that this morning hasn’t been fun and, you know, completely normal but alas, I must go to school. Mother?” Her head snaps up to attention and her ice blue eyes come to rest on my moss green ones. “Please stop worrying, everything is fine. See? No broken bones or deadbeat boyfriends in sight.” I give her a twirl for inspection, hoping to make her smile. Instead I receive pursed lips and a low hum as she glances at the Lilah plant despondently. Smiling and shaking my head I turn to my dad. 

“Father?” I pause, searching for words of wisdom to impart onto him but instead settle for my usual words of warning. “Please don’t smoke too much.” He grins at me in response and gives his usual thumbs up. 

“Remember, I’m practicing piano at the school tonight so I’ll be home late.” I call out to them as the door bangs shut behind me. I race to my car- an old sky blue Mini Cooper with white leather seats fraying around the edges and a gear shift that sticks like glue. I get my enormous cello, Trudy, into the passenger seat in record time and zoom off to stuffy classrooms and musty textbooks. 

The halls part like the Red Sea as I lumber myself and Trudy down its narrow expanses, bumping shins and hips on my way to the music room where I’ll stash Trudy until band later on today. 

“Ah, who is this vision gracing my presence? Is it an angel sent by god to spread musical brilliance throughout the world?” My eccentric band teacher Mr. Carlson greets me in his sing song voice as I bump my way into the room. I give him a tight smile as I make my way to the back of the tight space where I rest my cello amongst other various instruments. 

“Or a devil with hair the colour of flame who will tell me she hasn’t revised our main piece for class this afternoon?” My face tightens into a grimace as I turn to him slowly, my fingers playing nervously with the ends of my red hair. 

“Lilah!” His face morphs into a mock scowl as I hold my hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry Mr. C but I’m just a strung out teenager who’s perpetually late for English.” He throws a stack of music paper at me with a chuckle as I scoot my way out of his class, a huge grin plastered on my face as I race through the halls to English. 

The rest of the day blurs by in a mass of assignments and teachers, lecturing and writing until my hand cramps and listening until my ears feel like they’ll bleed. With the end of the day comes Band practice. I skid into the cramped space only five or so minutes late and am greeted by a cacophony of noise as people tune their instruments ready for practice. 

I’ve just gotten Trudy from her resting place ready to set up and see that Annie has just exploded into the room.

“Lilahhhhhh!” All five foot six of her is careening towards me at a breakneck pace; today she is dressed like a gothic beach babe complete with scuffed black Doc Martins, heavy black lined eyes and the string of her bikini top poking out of her ripped Alice in Chains band t-shirt. Her blonde hair dyed so black it almost looks blue under the florescent lights as she leaps onto me, almost knocking me down. She may be a good five inches shorter than me but she makes up for it in cynical enthusiasm and a fantastic sense of style. This is her subdued.

“Calm down Annie, you saw me yesterday. When you were a gothic cowboy, remember?” I tell her with a laugh as she releases me and plops down onto the floor gracefully. 

“Yeah, but I was a different person then.” She grins at me as I begin setting up my cello. “Okay so news.” She sits in the chair next to me .First chair cello, the seat I should be sitting in.

“Hit me with it.”

“The guy I was telling you about the other day, Toby-”

“The one with the lip ring who looks like a lion cub?” I interject, positioning Trudy between my knees and plucking out a few notes with my fingers. 

“Yeah, that one. He knows who Sylvia Plath is, and not like ‘oh stick your head in an oven Sylvia Plath’ but, like, actually read Ariel and A Bell Jar! Can you believe that?” Her eyes are bright as she talks and gesticulates wildly before she falls back in the chair with a happy sigh. Annie and I share a love of classic literature but her tastes lean more towards darker, tragic stories like Wuthering Heights and Dante’s inferno while I prefer Pride and Prejudice and Jayne Eyre; where things end in a brilliant love story. 

I’m about to reply when the opening cords to ‘Approaching shark’ from Jaws rings out from the horn section and I look over to the door to see Amanda Forbes gliding towards us. She shoots a sarcastic laugh at the horn section, who are responsible for her theme music, before sashaying over to Annie and myself. 

“Excuse you, you’re in my seat.” She sneers at Annie who rolls her eyes at me before making a show of relinquishing the chair. She pretends to strangle Amanda from behind as she makes her way to the horn section. I give her a wink and a grin as she passes.

“Okay, everyone please finish tuning, we are already late and I’d like to get started.” Mr. Carlson’s voice barely makes it above the noise as we settle in. 

“How’s second chair feeling today, Lilah? Not too uncomfortable I hope.” Amanda says sweetly, batting her ridiculously enormous doe eyes at me and flicking bone straight, Rapunzel length hair over her shoulders. All of which hides the fact that she is indeed the Anti-Christ. I resist the urge to light her hair on fire. 

The second the final bell goes I’m running out the door, eager to get to ‘the school’ and play my soul out on the thin ivories that rest in a grand piano there. I struggle getting Trudy into the car this time, my fingers are itching to make music with the cold, smooth keys waiting for me. I speed out of the student parking lot, barely missing Amanda’s brand new baby pink Nissan and secretly wish I could go back and scratch the ridiculous paint job as retribution for her bitchy comment earlier. 

I pull into the parking lot of ‘the school’ and decide to leave Trudy in the car as I make my way through the double doors into the massive entranceway. ‘The school’ is formally known as the Bradford School of Performing Arts which offers everything from acting workshops to drums lessons and, if you know the right people, they even let seventeen year olds with crazy hair and itchy fingers commandeer a grand piano now and then. I’ve been coming here since I was ten, taking advantage of people’s sympathy after my brother died, practicing piano and cello until my fingers were stiff and covered in blisters. 

“Lilah?” A voice calls me back as I make my way through the halls to the room at the end with the most light and a regal, shinning black grand piano stood centre stage. I backtrack and poke my head into one of the offices to see Mark, his greying beard down to his chest and honey brown eyes smiling at me. 

“Back again today, Lilah?” I grin at him and give him a ‘what can you do’ shrug.

“Well I’m glad I caught you. We have a band coming in later today to rehearse and they need the big room.” His face looked pained as he spoke, afraid that I would be mad or upset probably. 

“Oh, that’s fine. What time are they getting here?” I give him a reassuring smile and he relaxes a bit. 

“Four thirty, five-ish.”

“No worries, I’ll be out of here by then anyway.” I throw behind my shoulder as I run down the corridor. I fly into the room, throwing my bag to the floor and taking my seat on the bench in front of the gleaming instrument. I pause briefly; taking a deep breath and stretching out my fingers before I let them dance over the ivories making them sing their own type of song. 

I play some Chopin; playful and light hearted one minute, dramatic and intense the next. Next I play Brahms, by far my favourite composer. His pieces change emotion and pace so suddenly it’s difficult to keep up sometimes. Brahms seems to fit my personality, trying to cram so many emotions into one vessel at one time, they all end up overlapping and contrasting one another, it becomes a cacophony of sounds that shouldn’t work, but does. 

Halfway through practicing mournful a piece I wrote last week I hear the double doors to the room squeak open, I glance over and freeze. The abrupt absence of sound leaves me and the stranger staring at each other in increasingly awkward silence. He’s blond, a teenager- around my age- he’s treetops tall with bright blue eyes and a light smattering of acne on his cheeks, right now his features are pinched and nervous; like he’s trying to decide if he should run or not. We are still staring at one another, I feel exposed under the ocean blue of his eyes, broken open as he takes in the bewildered expression on my face, the unruly red curls hanging down past well past my shoulders and my fingers, poised above the ivory keys, ready to continue their mournful song. Breaking eye contact my pupils travel down his soaring frame and rest on the guitar case he’s clutching. 

“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to interrupt.” He talks hurriedly and barely above a whisper. He makes a move to shut the door and I find my voice. 

“Wait!” My voice wobbles as I come out of the trance caused by the song and our strange meeting. He pauses and turns back as I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans. “Are you part of the band?”

He nods his head quickly and looks down, the strange air between us shifting to embarrassed rather than electric. I gently lower the fall over the keys and gather my song book and bag.

“Then you’re in the right place.” I say softly making my way to the door. As I get closer I see the gradient tones of blond in his perfectly dishevelled hair, the inkling of dimples in his cheeks and the white blond tips of his spider leg long eyelashes as he bats at the ground. He draws a plump, pink lip between his teeth and glances up at my face warily. Our eyes meet for another brief moment as I reach the door and I notice the darker blue border surrounding the outer edge of his irises before my eyes slide to the ground as I squeeze past his slender frame; my cheeks flaming as my boobs brush against his chest. Letting out a deep breath I hurry down the long corridor, glancing back as I exit the building to find him in the exact same place, watching me go with a little smile playing on his lips. 

After a dinner of seasoned pork cutlets, asparagus and artichoke covered in homemade hollandaise sauce-mum’s a chef- I’m huddled into the corner of the living room couch, trying desperately to finish the song for my brother I was practicing earlier. Once I finish it I’ll make a copy and take it to his grave, dirt will be embedded under my fingernails as I dig a spot into the earth for it to sit and cover it over, giving my little brother a small piece of myself.

“You’ve been quiet tonight, Lilah, my dear.” My bear of a father plops onto the couch beside me and lifts my curled legs onto his lap as he starts gently kneading my feet; a habit left over from my adolescent years once he found out it made me want to talk. I stop writing as I struggle to snuggle into his side at the awkward angle we’ve found ourselves at. I watch his green paint splattered hands as they work at the knots in my feet and breathe deep the familiar scent of my old man; pot, paint and garden soil.

“So, what’s going on in that head of yours?” He prompts me, squeezing my toes. 

“Just contemplating life, love and the universe. No big deal.” He peers down at me sceptically and I can’t hold back my grin. “I was just thinking about Tommy actually. About how he used to spend all day outside lying in the grass in the front yard, surrounded by the blooming Angels trumpets and Roses and how mum had to literally drag him inside to go to bed.” I look up at my dad again as a smile envelops his features, only I see the hint of sadness hidden in between the lines on his face and the curve of his mouth. Only because I was looking for it. “I never told you guys but after you went to sleep I always heard him creep back outside, dragging his blanket and pillow to sleep among the lilacs. Especially after we found out.” His eyes shine with unshed tears as he wraps a giant arm around my shoulders and crushes me against him. 

“Well what’s going on here then?” Mum’s chipper voice breaks the moment as she slumps into the cushions beside dad and he wraps an arm around her too, pulling her in close. I wipe a sneaky tear off my cheek and glance up at dad who winks and presses a kiss to my forehead.

“I’m just sitting here appreciating my girls.” On cue mum and I both roll our eyes and she giggles quietly. 

“Hey, something weird happened to me today.” I exclaim as I move to cross my legs and face my parents. “I sort of met this guy at Bradford and it was all very strange.” Mum’s eyebrows knit instantly as her and dad share a very parental look. “Not like that! He was in some band and he came in while I was playing and just, the whole exchange afterwards was very weird.” 

“He’s in a band? What does he play?” Mum’s eyebrows are raised now; I swear she could have a whole conversation with those things.

“He had a guitar case.”

“Got to be careful of musicians Lilah, especially guitarists, they’re usually much too wild and passionate. Too much for any daughter of mine anyway.” Mum tuts in my general direction as dad shakes his head in disagreement. 

“Andy!” She whacks his arm. “Don’t be giving her mixed signals, we don’t need any musicians of the male variety in this house, thank you very much.” 

“Now Grace, you know my musical talents were what landed me you.” Both his arms are now wound around her waist.

“Dad, you play the ukulele. Badly.” I say but they are too wrapped up in each other to hear me, I make a gagging sound as I disentangle myself from the couch but find myself smiling on my way to my room; secretly glad my parents love each other enough to still behave like love sick teenagers. There was a time, around the time when Tommy died, when I thought I’d have to split up the holidays and that never seemed particularly appealing to me.


	2. Chapter 2

I wake to a finger jabbing my forehead repeatedly and Annie’s voice cursing into my ear. I brush her away and snuggle down deeper into my cavern of pillows and blankets. 

“Lilah. Get up. It’s time for school, sunshine!” It’s much too early for her to be so chipper and loud. Very loud. “Lilah, if you don’t get up you won’t get your coffee.” Her sing song voice penetrates the cavern. I peek my head over the edge of the blankets and through my bleary eyes see her perched on the end of my bed, holding a to-go cup just out of reach. 

“Is it-” I tentatively sniff the air, drinking in the scent of fresh roasted coffee beans mixed with chocolate.

“Your usual; half coffee, half chocolate. Now get your ass out of bed and put a bra on or we are going to be late.” She leaves the cup on my desk as she clomps out of the room.

“You suck!” I yell after her as I drag myself up. I do indeed put a bra on as well as a mustard yellow sundress, black stockings and my favourite pair of folk looking brown ankle boots with a little heel. Well shit, I’m already tall I might as well make myself gigantic. I fluff my hair a little, not bothering to tame the mess of curls and frizz atop my head, brush on some mascara, grab my bag and coffee and stomp my way into the kitchen. 

“Fe! Fi! Fo! Fum!” My mum chorus’ as I enter. I give her my best death stare as I coffee up my coffee. Annie is giggling at the kitchen table while I give her the finger, she gives me a double in return. 

“Well, we’re off. By mother, have a good day.” I give her a kiss on the cheek as I pass. 

“What? No breakfast?” She looks genuinely outraged that I would even think of leaving home without a full stomach. That’s chefs for you. 

“Solids are for the weak.” I take a long slurp of coffee for good measure. “Goodbye father, I’m off to the institution that kills creativity, dreams and individuality.” I yell up the stairs towards dad’s studio. Silence. “I may get a piercing, a lower back tattoo and a biker boyfriend by way of rebellion.”

“That sounds nice Lilah, have a good day.” His chipper disembodied voice bangs down the stairs. 

“Unbelievable.” I throw my hands into the air as Annie and I leave, almost spilling my drink all down her Hippy-Goth look of the day. 

“You know, I really like going to your house.” She smiles at me as we bundle into my car and zip off to school. 

The joints in my fingers burn as I pull the reed slowly over the strings running the length of my cello, the vibrations passing from the strings, into my bones and out through the hard wood of my incredible instrument. I’ve been playing cello since I was eight. 

When I first stumbled home in the third grade with my scrawny skinned knees and rat’s tail hair declaring I wanted to play the cello my parents were sceptical; thinking it was a passing fad that I’d be done with after a few weeks. But in our household creativity is nurtured and encouraged above all else, so after a couple of months of blistered fingers and aching arms from playing my schools old beat up piece my parents finally rented me my very own cello and so began my grand love affair with music. Off-key scales led to rusty triads and my first squeaky attempts at Twinkle, Twinkle, little star before I was playing Bach suites with weather worn hands. 

“That’s it for today folks.” Mr. C breaks us out of our musical trance. “Remember we won’t be meeting again until Wednesday of next week so make sure you practice, practice, practice!” I’m putting my instrument away as Amanda mutters something to me about making sure I practice so I don’t end up in third chair, blah, blah, blah. I simply snap my cello case shut and walk away to rescue Annie who has been cornered by Jacob James, who’s no doubt asking her to see some shit-kicker band with him this weekend, yet again. She falls into me with gratitude for the rescue as we make our way outside to the mini and clamber ourselves and instruments in so I can take her home.

I wave to Mark and Anthea in their studios along the corridor as I make a beeline for the piano room at Bradford. Unlike yesterday I don’t plan what to play, just let my fingers bound across the keys as if they were dancing the tango with passion and fire. It’s quite a few dance steps until I reach the waltz, slow and calming, each finger sure of its role, never skipping a beat or stepping a toe out of line. 

I get a text from my mum as the last chords ring out and quickly grab my things when I realise it’s almost five. I’m typing out a quick reply as I push through the doors into the corridor and immediately trip over something, letting out a shriek and falling face first into the carpet, watching my phone sail away to hit the floor with a thump. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Are you alright?” There are a strangers hands on my back while I giggle uncontrollably into the floor and wind my hands backward to see if my skirt is still covering my lower half. I nod toward the voice as my giggles turn into full blown laughter and my nose is all scrunched up and my mouth is so wide I’m sure he can see my tonsils as I curl into myself and hold my stomach. 

I open my eyes after a moment to see the blond boy from yesterday giggling softly into his hand, a huge grin on his face as he peers at me. I’m overwhelmed suddenly by how animated his face is amidst the easy laughter being shared between us. His eyes are bright and filled with humour as they study my face, a little blush has crept onto his cheeks, from embarrassment or from laughter, I’m not sure. 

I’m still chuckling as I sit up and scoot backwards against the corridor wall, legs stuck straight out in front of me and coming to rest next to his guitar case; the obvious culprit for my stumbling act. 

“I’m sorry, are you okay?” There’s a chuckle in his voice as he pulls a hand through the tumble of sunshine that is his hair. 

“Fine.” I reply patting the case sat beside me. “But can I ask you why exactly you were sitting on the floor, in prime tripping position, right outside the door?” 

“Ah, it’s kind of embarrassing.” He mutters, pushing off of his position against one of the doors to reach for my ill fated phone. As he moves I notice how lean he is, all arms and legs that he tries to fold around himself as he scuttles forward. 

“Do you have a condition that causes you to fall to the ground every time you need to cross a thresh hold?” I ask as he passes me the device and shuffles back having to fold his long limbs back into place. “Because I could imagine that would be extremely inconvenient.”

He smiling again and I can’t get over the way his face and eyes light up. He’s batting his eyelashes at the ground as he twists his hands together. 

“No it’s nothing like that. I just- I was just listening to you play.” He glances up at me cautiously as I blink back in surprise, an embarrassed smile forming on my face and it’s my turn to look at the ground. 

“Oh, how- how long have you been sitting here, uh, listening?”

“Not that long, just a couple of minutes.” He says with a shrug as he peeks up at me. I smile at my hands, picking at my fingernails as we sit quietly together. “I think you’re really good actually.” 

My head snaps up at the compliment and our eyes lock. Blue ice burning into green moss as I try to figure him out. He looks away first, down to his hands that are turning his phone lazily, the tiniest of blushes creeping onto his face. My smile broadens at his endearing shyness.

“Thank you. I’m Lilah, by the way.” He glances up at my expecting face as the corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk. 

“Luke.” He tells me reaching a hand forward for me to shake. “It’s nice to meet you Lilah.” I like the way my name sounds coming out of his mouth and I can feel my cheeks reddening at the thought as I reach forward to shake his hand.

“So formal all of a sudden. There’s really no need, I’ve just fallen on top of you with my dress up around my waist and my knickers on full display.” His cheeks redden further as he settles back down confirming that it didn’t go unnoticed. I curse myself inwardly, appalled at myself for saying the word knickers in front of a complete stranger. A fairly attractive and pleasant complete stranger. 

“I can’t believe I’ve just said the word knickers in front of you.” My hand slaps to my face, hiding my shameful smile as I groan. “Twice.” I peek out from between my fingers to see him chuckling softly behind his hand, his eyes crinkling at the edge as he smiles. 

“Well Luke,” I say, liking the way his name falls from my tongue, “if I’m playing next time you’re here feel free to come in that way we can avoid this whole falling over in the doorway and flashing people business. Deal?” Another smile lights up his face as his hand falls away and I’m met with the full wattage of his playful grin. 

“Deal.” He replies at the same moment as the front door swings open and our quiet hallway is filled with the voices and laughter of three rambunctious teenagers all carrying instruments. The rest of Luke’s band I assume. I glance back at Luke who is giving his friends a wave as they chorus his name in greeting, before gathering my things and hauling myself upright. Luke rights himself as well, gathering his guitar case on the way and is smiling down at me as the rest of the band stop in front of us.

I am struck first of all by how tall they all are. They’ve all got at least an inch on me even in my heeled boots. The second is how nice they all smell; each with their own perfect ratio of cologne and boy, thirdly is how similar they all look. Knock off Vans, drainpipe skinny jeans over skinny legs, quirky t-shirts over lean torsos and slightly different versions of the same punk looking haircut. If they weren’t all of slightly different colouring they could be mistaken for brothers. 

“Hey guys, this is Lilah.” I give them a little smile and a wave as Luke introduces me and all four sets of eyes come to rest on my face. “She plays the piano.” Luke adds to clarify as to why I’m standing in the hallway of a music school, impeding on their rehearsal time.

“Oh.” The dark haired one with slightly darker skin says followed by another slightly more meaningful “oh” as he raises his eyebrows at Luke who widens his eyes almost indistinctly back at him. 

I’m grinning as my head whips around between them, as if I were in a strange tennis match between band members serving and backhanding with their eyes instead of a racquet and ball. It’s thrilling. My eyes catch on a pair of hazel globes that are attached to a grinning face with dimples the size of creators, the boy who belongs to the face isn’t holding an instrument but does have two drumsticks tucked into the front pocket of his skin-tight jeans. 

“Hey there, I’m Ashton.” Hazel eyes addresses me and I smile in response. They go along the line and introduce themselves. Calum- the one with shadowy, wavy hair that compliments dark chocolate eyes and mahogany brown skin-has set his guitar case on the floor by his feet and is grinning at me as if a jokes been said that I should be laughing at. Michael is last-who has shaggy, shaded blond hair glued to his forehead and sweeping down his cheek, ocean blue eyes that are pink with tiredness that won’t quite meet mine and the sleeves of an oversize jumper covering his hands as they clutch yet another guitar case. 

“Well it’s getting late, I’d better get going,” I turn to face Luke who smiles at me, “sorry for flashing you and all that. Have a good rehearsal, see you around.” I give them a wave as I make my way down the corridor, I’m only a few steps away when I heard Michaels voice in a hushed whisper. 

“She flashed you?” They all laugh together as they make their way into the studio and I push through the double doors into the rapidly cooling dusk. 

I’m in my car on the way home going over the events of this afternoon and smiling to myself before I realise that that’s the first time I’ve played piano for any kind of audience besides my brother for years. The thought stops me in my tracks and I have to pull over for a minute to catch my breath. Breathing deep as the guilt and betrayal of that sets in.


	3. Chapter 3

Due to the lack of band practice today Annie comes to Bradford with me, we take our instruments inside and spend some time practicing here instead of alone at our respective houses. We clunk our way down the corridor and into the studio, pulling chairs into the light by the towering window and setting ourselves up. Trudy resting comfortably between my legs and Annie’s French horn Barrie enclosed in her arms. 

“I still can’t believe that after three years, three years, of trying to think of a name for your horn you picked Barrie. It’s just so, Barrie.” I tell her as we warm up our instruments and our fingers. 

“Don’t you be badmouthing my instrument, little miss.” I poke my tongue out at her and play some scales. “Besides I’m just here to catch a glimpse of lover boy and his pretty band of lover boys.” I roll my eyes at her. 

I explained, at her behest, in excruciatingly graphic detail the entire scenario of meeting Luke and the boys to Annie last night on the phone and after she interrupted eighty five million times to ask stupid questions she decided that I should definitely date one, if not all of them. She has a lose sense of morals what can I say. 

“Lover boy? Lover boy? I’ve talked to him twice Annie I think it might be a teensy bit early for you to start naming our children. Also I told you his name is Luke and the rest of them are Calum, Michael and Ashton.” I counted them off on my fingers while she blew a scale out at me. “They don’t come in until later anyway, besides what happened to the baby lion cub that digs Sylvia Plath?” 

“Urgh, Toby. That disaster.”

“How can it already be a disaster, it’s been two days!”

“He’s a philistine Lilah, a philistine I tell you and I won’t hear anything about him ever again!” I chuckle at her and raise my hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay. Never again, I promise.” I mime locking my lips and throwing away the key. We play for a little longer; our lack of a theme creates beautiful unadulterated noise around us. 

“Shall we play some Wilder first?” I ask and Annie nods. The first few bars of melodic music spill out into the space between us, bending in the sunlight and turning air into colour. 

The door opens a little later as we run through our band piece for the third time, trying to get our timing right. Annie beams as she swings around in her chair, hoping for a glimpse of Luke and his friends, only for her face to fall as we both spot Charlie loitering in the doorway. 

“Hey Charlie. How’s it going?” I call out as Annie slumps back in her seat, pouting. I jut my lower lip out at her mockingly and am rewarded by her giving me the finger.

“Hey, Lilah. Annie. Sorry to barge in, I just need one of the music stands for practice.”

“Sure, we’re not using them.” I nod my head to the furthest corner of the room while he makes his way over to grab one. I hear Annie’s horn case snap open.

“Where are you going?” I ask as she packs away her instrument.

“I’ve gotta get home, see you sweet cheeks.” She snaps her case closed and gives me a peck on the cheek on her way out. She holds the door for Charlie and I can hear them chatting as they walk back down the corridor. I shrug to myself and continue playing solo. 

I switch to piano soon after and play until my fingers start to tingle, on the verge of going numb. I play my way through my brothers song once more, happy with the additions I’ve made today, before closing the fall and gathering my things. I try not to feel despondent as I check the time and realise that its earlier than I usually leave therefore I won’t see Luke or his friends like the last couple of days. 

I shake the ridiculous thought out of my head as I push through the doors. How incredibly cliché it all is, thinking about the pretty boy in a band who I hardly know. He is very pretty though, in a delicate, graceful kind of way; the kind of pretty I could imagine only grows with time as you figure a person out. 

“Hey Lilah!” I turn at the sound of Charlie’s voice. “You leaving?” He asks as I make my way into his rehearsal space, grateful for the distraction from my ridiculous thoughts. 

“Yeah, but I can hang out for a bit.” I tell him as I drop Trudy to the floor and pull myself up onto a desk. He smiles before returning to his violin. I listen to the building, playful melody spouting from his instrument, humming along to the rhythm of Franz Listz’s Sonata in B minor for a couple of hours in the soundproofed room. 

“So, how are you Lilah? You holding up okay?” Charlie blurts out suddenly as he’s packing up his violin. I blink and frown at him in response to his seemingly unfounded question. “I mean about Tommy and all.” He looks nervous now, like he might have overstepped the boundaries of our friendship. I cast my eyes downwards and suck in a shaky breath, fighting back the ripple of sadness washing over my body, trying not the let it become a tsunami. 

“Lilah?”

“I’m fine.” I muster up a wobbly smile and look at him, with his worried eyes and pinched features and I wonder who worries about him. “Just, you know....” I trail off as his eyes break from mine and it’s his turn to stare at the carpet as he nods solemnly. 

“I know what you mean.” I know he does. He lost an older sister around the same time as I lost Tommy. We spent weeks together at various hospitals trying to carry on with life as our siblings slowly died around us. 

“How are you doing?” He perks up at my question, putting his own facade on for me. 

“Oh, I’m great. I’ve got a violin recital coming up around the same time so, you know, plenty to keep me busy.” His smile only falters a little bit as he talks about the anniversary of his sister’s death. “I’m going to play the Listz.”

“It’s sounding good.” I try for a reassuring smile but I think it comes out as more of a grimace and that sets us both off laughing. We laugh for our dead siblings because it sure beats crying, and we both know we’ll be doing plenty of that in the coming months. 

I’m surprised to find its dark already and the wind has picked up causing a chill to prickle on my arms as I wrap my coat tightly around myself. I give a wave to Charlie as he veers off in the opposite direction and I spot that my little blue mini is the only car left in the car park. All the cheesy slasher scenes from B grade horror movie start whirring through my mind and I almost jump out of my skin when a deep voice calls out my name behind me. 

“I’m sorry!” Luke is pushing himself off of the building wall, hands out stretched in apology as the squeal I let out reverberates in the empty lot before disappearing into the air. We both listen as it dissipates, I realize after a beat that my body is still frozen in terror, muscles tense, hand clamped over my mouth, arriving a beat too late to hold in my scream, the other gripping the handle of my cello case hard enough to turn my knuckles white. I let my head fall back to face the sky and breathe out a sigh mixed with a chuckle, when I look away from the starry night and back to Luke I see he’s let his arms relax and is scratching at the scruff of hair on the back of his neck nervously. 

“What are you doing out here, dude? You scared the shit out of me.” I question sucking in a deep breath with a smile on my face. 

“I’m just waiting for my dad to finish work and pick me up.” Its then that I notice his guitar case resting on the floor where he was standing and a phone in his hand, obviously killing time. 

As we stand in an awkward silence a cool night wind blows over us, whipping my hair into my eyes and I notice Luke shiver slightly. 

“Well, do you need a ride?”The question is out from behind my teeth before I can stop it and Luke half smiles at the ground, scuffing his shoe into the concrete as he nods yes. There’s that endearing shyness again. 

“Just one thing first.” I take a couple of steps closer and he finally looks at me. “You have to swear you won’t kill me and bury my body in the woods.” He lets out a small snort of laughter and I raise my eyebrows at him to let him know I’m waiting for an answer; biting back a smile.

“Scouts honour.” He replies, straight faced and holding up three fingers in the air-the typical sign for the scouts. 

“Well all righty then.” I beam at him before turning towards my car; he falls into step beside me a moment later. I’m not thinking about slasher films anymore and feeling pretty darn safe walking beside Luke, until we get to my car and I notice a problem.

“Ah, I didn’t think of that.” I point to our oversize instruments and then to my tiny car, wondering how this is going to work. “Give me a sec.”

I grab my cello and dive into the backseat to start the complicated game of real life Tetris. My head is bent under the roof, trying to manoeuvre the hulking case out of the foot well where it’s wedged when Luke clears his throat behind me. 

“Um, Lilah? I can see your underwear again.”

“Ah, oh my god!” I whip around so fast I hit my head on the roof of the car and when I finally turn he’s trying to seem concerned while holding back a smile. “If only I could get through one meeting with you without exposing myself inappropriately.” I sigh to myself but a smile is already forming on my face and we both burst out into giggles. 

“May I?” He asks with a chuckle in his voice, gesturing to the wedged instrument and I step aside with a flourish.

“Be my guest.” 

Luke seems to just look at it and the problem fixes itself and we’re the car in an embarrassingly short amount of time. 

“Seriously.” I mutter under my breath disbelievingly as we pull out of the car park. He looks worried for a minute before he sees I’m smiling and offers me one in return. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, it’s my duty as a scout to help the elderly in any way I can.” He chuckles out at me as I scoff and make a move to punch him. 

“You should respect your elders you cheeky little shit!” He catches my wrist before I can make contact with his chest and we struggle and laugh for beat. “Hey! Don’t distract the driver young man; I will turn this car around.” He laughs at that and releases my arm, which is good because we’ve drifted across the road slightly during our bickering. 

“Wait, if I’m your elder than how old are you?”

“Seventeen.” I gawk at him for a second, my eyes running down his sculpted face with pale stubble brushed across his chin, to his broad and muscular shoulders, lean torso and spider long legs, that even with the chair back as far as it can go take up the entire foot well. 

“No one looked like you when I was seventeen, I want a refund.” My voice giving away how impressed I am and he blushes slightly. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t adorable and I smile out at the road, surprised at the easy conversation and banter between the two of us. 

“Do you mind if we stop for coffee?” I ask as I pull into the Starbucks car park and he shakes his head. “I’m having withdrawal symptoms. Do you want anything? I’m buying.”

We’re back in the car moments later, Luke’s holding both of the steaming cups as my old car doesn’t have cup holders and is making fun of my coffee choice. 

“There’s barely any caffeine in this at all is all I’m saying.”

“Well some of us prefer our caffeine with equal parts sugar, unlike that bitter sludge you’re drinking.”I remark and he mocks being offended as we start moving again.

“Okay, these are really full.” We are back out on the road and Luke is looking nervous. I can’t help chuckling when I glance across and see him bracing for a spill and sure enough my car lurches over a pothole causing boiling liquid to spill over Luke’s jeans. 

“Ow! Shit, shit, shit, shit.” I’m full on laughing at his string of curses as I pull over and take the cups from him. I slurp up the drips coming down the side of his cup and grimace as the bitterness of his coffee hits my tongue. Meanwhile he dabs at his coffee damp jeans with a wad of napkins but at least he’s stopped swearing. 

“Least they’re black so it doesn’t look like you’ve peed yourself.” I offer as reassurance, handing him back his coffee when he’s done all he can with the stain. 

“No I’ve just permanently burnt myself, which is much better.” He sighs taking a sip. 

“Oh no, do you think it will leave a scar?” The sarcasm is dripping off my tongue and I earn myself a glare from my sullen passenger. “Don’t worry, as your elder I promise not to tell anyone.” He gives me a doubtful look. “Just my three hundred closest friends and family plus everyone I meet from this day onwards for forever.” He spits out the sip he’d just taken and it joins the rest of the coffee adorning his black skinnys.

“You did that on purpose.” He glares across at me as I hide my smile behind my cup. 

“We might have to finish these here; clearly you can’t be trusted with hot beverages on the move.” He shoots me another glare but takes his seat belt off and settles back into the chair all the same. 

We are sitting together quietly for a while, the silence permeated by slow slurps of cooling coffee and the dull tones of the radio and I’m struck again by how comfortable Luke makes me feel. A perfect mix between playful banter and the comfortable quiet, it’s nice not to have to worry about filling the silence. 

“Can I ask you something really serious?” I finally break the quiet. His eyebrows knit together slightly as he nods at my serious expression. “Yeah.” He breathes out.

“Were you ever really a scout?” I deadpan and Luke snorts so hard he inhales some of his coffee and the next few moments are punctuated with coughs, from him, and laughter, from me. 

“Not again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry that this chapter is super long but I had to establish characters and there will be much more 5sos coming soon :) happy trails friends....


End file.
